


The Big Bang

by le_chat_vilain



Series: Gangs of Middle Earth [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Arson, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, Gambling, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Modern AU, Original Character Death(s), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is evil born or is it made? </p><p>Eryn Vorn was once terrorised by the maniac known only to the public as "The Dragon", but the one thing nobody ever knew was why. Flashback to the November of 1987, where a 19 year old Smaug's life is about to be changed forever.</p><p>[TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic violence, death, attempted suicide, arson, frequent coarse language, references to drug and alcohol abuse and gambling.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Bang

**Author's Note:**

> For those following this story who are uncomfortable with reading due to the trigger warnings, I will do a quick summary in a later chapter.

He could hear the shouting as he reached the top of the stairs. Not even the stray cats that hung around in the dank halls could stand the ruckus. They were fighting again.

Continuing down the litter strewn hallway, he kicked a can out of his path causing several large rats to scarper. He wondered what the high and mighty at city hall would say if they could see this slum he called home, where his parents struggled to make ends meet and his baby sister could be found playing amongst cockroaches just as readily as toys. Where anyone who wasn’t used to it would be knocked on their arse by the sheer stench of damp, rubbish, and stale cigarettes. The land lord was invincible, knew too many people in the system to ever be prosecuted for his crimes. The rent was always going up and the place just kept getting worse.

Pausing at the door to the apartment, he heard the shattering of glass and his parents at each other’s throats yet again.

“I work my fucking arse off for this family and all you ever do is fuck it up! What was it this time Evie? Drugs? Booze? Ponies? There was two thousand fucking dollars in that jar yesterday morning, where the fuck is it?” his father bellowed, and he could hear him throwing things, slamming doors, even upturning furniture. 

“I thought I could make it better okay? I…invested it. But…” his mother countered, her tone strong to start with then fading into a mumble as usual. She was pathetic. A weak husk of a human being with no self control or self esteem. She didn’t love them. She just loved a fix. The only reason his sister even existed was so she could get government benefits. Of course they had to have another kid when he turned sixteen and that all stopped, so that’s exactly what they did. Gidget was the only reason he hung around this place.

“Invested it? Invested it in what? Lemme guess, you fucked that up to didn’t you?” 

“What do you wanna hear, Alduin? You wanna hear that I rolled it into a joint and smoked it? I went to the fucking casino, alright? I thought I could double our money! I thought…” 

“Well that was your first mistake, wasn’t it? You stupid cunt! You just never learn!”

Oh for fuck’s sake, mum. You fucking twat.

That’s when he heard it, the smack. The door shuddered in front of him as his mother’s body made contact with it. He heard her grunt and sob as the hits kept on coming, she didn’t even put up a fight anymore. A long time ago he would have stepped in. A long time ago he felt sorry for her. Today he simply shoved his hands in his pockets, turned on his heel, and walked back down the hall. It was Wednesday, and Gidget wouldn’t need collecting from daycare for another two hours, a job that would clearly be his again today.

They never used to be that way. There was a time when they loved each other, when they were happy. When his father would get home from work everyday and sweep her into his arms, dip her and kiss her, grinning like the cat that got the cream. When his mother would have the house in order, and dinner on the stove, when she looked at her husband through eyes wide and sparkling. When they had tucked their son in at night and read him bedtime stories. 

That was also a long time ago. 

Before the gold mine this town was built around dried up. Before dad lost his job with the six figure salary along with every other bloke and his dog. Before the stress of financial ruin started to eat at their souls. Before the gin and the drugs, the bitter resentment. Before she lost the ability to love and in a time where he would never think to raise a hand to her. They had tried, but at the end of the day and in spite of their ancestry, they were only human.

His shift was over and yet he found himself trudging along the path back to the arcade. Azog had knocked him off early since business had been slow, but that was the beauty of working for his best mate; he was always welcome regardless. Plus it was on the way to get Gidge anyway. Zog’s Dungeon was located a couple of streets back from the Mordor Market, not the best place for trapping street traffic but not too shabby either compared to the original location. It was the old part of town of course, the building had originally been a grocery, complete with the big bay window out front where the finest the deli department had to offer would have once taken pride of place. Now that window was plastered with Star Wars posters and flyers for up and coming concerts and tournaments, not an inch of glass was bare; it wouldn’t really be in keeping with the whole dungeon thing to have daylight creeping in after all. Smaug pushed open the door, the creak of its hinges punctuated by the jingling of the string of bells that hung on its back. 

The room was dimly lit, glowing with the light from the screens and interfaces of every game unit under the sun. Along with an extensive selection of pinball machines, they lined the walls and formed neat alleyways throughout the space. Each corridor led to the large open space housing a full sized snooker table, along with several ping pong tables and a darts run. The kiosk lined the whole back wall, with the prizes all on display, everything from stuffed toys to brand new Walkmans. Zog was sitting there with his feet up on the glass display case, loudly popping gum and flicking through a vintage Playboy.

Zog was a mountain of a man, no doubt thanks to his Maori heritage. The tribal tattoos of his people that wove their way across his chest and shoulders were visible beneath his faded white t-shirt, and in typical Zog style his black hair was gelled into a Mohawk. 

“You’re back!” he called, peering out from behind the magazine with the smile of an angel, his straight white teeth practically glowing against the contrast of his coffee coloured skin. The grin faded when he saw the look on Smaug’s face, and closing his reading material, he swung his legs down from the counter and leant forward, concern playing on his face. “And you’re in a shit mood, what happened now?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Yelling, punching…with any luck one day he’ll kill her and I’ll be rid of the pair of ‘em,” he murmured as he lit a cigarette. 

“Mate, come on that’s a bit harsh, they’re still your folks. You’re lucky to have ‘em.”

“You’re right, mate. Sorry, you know I forget sometimes,” Zog’s parents were both gone by the time he was fifteen. Cancer got his mum and the drink took his dad ten years later. Yet here the guy stood, twenty years old with his own business and partner to his brother’s bike shop down the road, strutting through life like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth instead of a dollar store disposable. Sure, he’d gotten his hands a bit dirty to get here, but you couldn’t say he hadn’t earned it all the same.

“All good, it’s ancient history,” he replied, standing and stretching to his full and impressive height. “Street Fighter? Best of five?”

“Alright, you’re on!”

They ended up going to best of five sever times, Zog kicking his arse every round. Finally it was time for him to fetch Gidge from daycare.

“Fancy some company? Not like anything’s goin’ on here anyway,” the big Kiwi asked, shrugging on a worn old motorcycle jacket; his father’s. Smaug shrugged in response and the pair locked up shop and set off to fetch his little sister. Several fire engines whizzed by them as they turned up the path to the centre, sirens blaring and ambulances in their wake. They didn’t bat an eyelid, it was such a common sight in this district.

“Smaug, what are you doing here, lad?” Mrs Mackenzie the receptionist said as she greeted him with a warm yet perplexed smile.

“I’m here to collect Gidget, Mrs. Mack. It is Wednesday you know,” he responded, thinking perhaps she was getting a little forgetful in her old age.

“Yes, dear, but your mother never brought her in today. Said she had a wee sniffle the sweet bairn.”

His heart plummeted through his chest and a feeling of unshakeable dread began to pool in his stomach. He left her there, with them, when they were like that. Spinning around frantically, he bolted out the doors and back down the path, sprinting through the streets back to the rat infested hovel he called home, Azog hot on his heels. The closer they drew to their destination, the stronger the smell of smoke became, replacing Modor’s usual perfume of hot garbage and sick entirely. Shooting out of an alleyway and onto his street he almost stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the origin point of the smoke. His worst fears were confirmed when he counted the windows; three up on the left, home. An explosion burst from the apartment and he could no longer stand idle.

“Smaug, no!” Azog shouted, as if he could read Smaug’s mind. 

“Gidget!” Without hesitation and ignoring his friend’s plea, his feet were moving again, hands shoving aside bystanders and emergency personnel in his path. Leaping over the safety barricade he darted into the burning building, screaming for his baby sister, coughing and spluttering as the smoke and ash filled his lungs. As he reached the second floor landing, he collided with an incredibly large and strong firefighter, who immediately scooped up his skinny frame and began to carry him back down the stairs.

“What are you doing in here kid? Are you insane?”

“Let go of me you fucking prick! My baby sister is in there! Gidget! GIDGET!” he shrieked, attempting free himself from the man’s grip. Once they were free from the structure, the firefighter released Smaug into the arms of a waiting police officer. They had to cuff him and stow him in the back seat of the cruiser to stop him from attempting to be a hero again. Looking out the window in alarm, he saw Zog charge at the door only to wind up right there in the squad car with him, though it took a crew of about five officers to get him there. They sat there in silence, watching as several stragglers were evacuated.

Once the flames were extinguished, three body bags emerged. Two adult sized. One child.

His head lulled back and he slumped in his seat. A strangled sound crawled its way from his lips, ghastly and almost inhuman in tone; the opera of raw heartbreak. He was too late. She was gone. In his selfishness and apathy he had failed her when she needed him most. Tears rolled down his ashy cheeks, so hot he thought they were boiling, and he had no choice but to let them come. He was still cuffed. 

“Smaug, I-” Azog started, cut off by an officer procuring him from the vehicle and slamming the door. Smaug watched as they uncuffed his friend and a brief conversation ensued, culminating in Zog and the officers eyeing him with pity in their eyes.

“The fire crews have found traces of an accelerant…it would appear it was arson,” the detective explained to him as Smaug sat by his desk back at the precinct. “Do you know who would want to hurt your family, sir?”

“Was it Captain Morgan or kerosene?” 

“The accelerant? It’s hard to say definitively, but judging by the smell it was some kind of alcohol.”

“Then it was my dad.” The words were his but it was like someone else spoke them, as though he was watching from some place outside of his own body. He proceeded to tell the detective about the fight, the years of delinquency he’d witnessed. The beatings they had given him as a teenager for simply having the audacity to ask for money for school field trips, or new textbooks. When he replayed it all back to himself in his mind, he realized that it had only been a matter of time, that the pair of them were ticking time bombs, land mines just waiting for someone to take a wrong step. 

“Do you have somewhere you can stay, Mr. Gould?”

“He can stay with me, detective.” Azog had hung around and waited for his mate, his famous loyalty on show for the world to witness. The detective nodded grimly and rose to his feet.

“Then you’re free to go for now. Go get some rest. Expect a call from the coroner in a day or two.” 

They walked back to the arcade in silence; Azog lived in a caretaker’s apartment in the building upstairs. Grabbing a few beers, they climbed the stairs to the roof and stood gazing out over Eryn Vorn.

“I should’ve seen it coming. I should have fucking taken her and run the minute she was born. I knew she wasn’t never safe with them. They fucking beat my arse black and blue, the fuck did I think they were gonna change for her or summin? I’m such a fucking dickhead!” he bellowed out over the city, chugging down the rest of his beer and flinging the bottle off the roof. 

“Mate, you couldn’t have known.”

Smaug leant against the concrete barrier that bordered the roof top, rubbing its roughness with his fingers. He could still smell the smoke lingering in the air, trapped in the valley by the cool change in atmospheric pressure typical of late November. Pushing himself up onto the ledge, he slowly rose to his feet, holding his arms out by his sides until he gained his balance. 

“Maybe I should just jump,” he mused, contemplating the sixteen story drop to the pavement below, absent mindedly flicking the zippo in his hand as he thought about it.

“No! Oi nah, fuck off, this is not your fault! Don’t you go acting a fool over it!” Azog begged, seeming almost incensed that his friend would even think that way. “This is the fault of the cunts who made them that way. The bastards who sacked your old man, who kept selling your mum gin and God knows what else, and letting her in that bloody casino. They’re the ones you should be mad at. They’re the ones who did this to you.”

He lit a cigarette as he considered what Zog was saying. In a way he was right. The Durins had run the mine for decades. When that went under they sacked everyone, and then hired them back on new contracts to build the casino for a fifth of their former wages. Those rich pricks were the only ones who didn’t suffer from everything that happened ten years ago. They were the cockroaches of that nuclear winter. Why should he let them take anything more from him? Why should he let them win? They should pay for what they had done, to him, to his parents, to this city, and to Gidge. 

“Smaug, are you listening to me? You don’t need to do this! I can call the boys, we can make them pay!”

Taking a final drag, he flicked the cigarette butt over the edge and turned to face his friend, blowing the smoke out his nostrils and mouth with a dark smile on his lips.

“You’re right,” he said, his tone so sinister it sent a visible chill down Zog’s spine. Twisting open the lighter and flicking the flint, he held it casually in front of him, staring into the flame and grinning. He was a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain, and he would not rest until he had laid waste to everything they held dear.

**Author's Note:**

> When I first decided to give some context to why all this was happening in the story in the first place, I knew I was going to make Smaug's story dark. It turned out darker than I had initially planned but I like to think that it still works. I wanted to take the villain and humanise him, give him a life and a family, make him real and someone who you might even want to help or have in your life. I want you to love him, maybe even take his side, see things from his point of view. Make him capable of deep and real love and see what would happen if his heart were to break. I believe that evil is made, and so I wanted to explore that here, really delve into what lengths someone's strength has to be pushed to before they tip that scale.
> 
> This was almost entirely inspired by the song Beautiful Pain by Eminem ft. Sia, and it's a really wonderful song, I strongly urge you all to jump on Spotify and check it out, because the pair of them are just lyrical porn together and I love it.
> 
> Credit also goes to tumblr user Nuggles who's artwork inspired me to write this whole AU in the first place!


End file.
